Suzanne Collins Quotes

I've just had the opportunity to see the finished film of 'The Hunger Games.' I'm really happy with how it turned out. I feel like the book and the film are individual yet complementary pieces that enhance one another.

There was nothing to do but keep moving forward and make the moments count.

I want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you. -Peeta Mellark

Only.. I want to do die as myself

She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath, and then you can hear a pin drop, and I'm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it's not me, that it's not me, that it's not me.
Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it's not me.
It's Primrose Everdeen.

Where you can starve to death in safety," I mutter. Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you. When I was younger, I scared my mother to death, the things I would blurt out about District 12, about the people who rule our country, Panem, from the far-off city called the Capitol. Eventually I understood this would only lead us to more trouble. So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts. Do my work quietly in school. Make only polite small talk in the public market. Discuss little more than trades in the Hob, which is the black market where I make most of my money. Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food

I just don't want them to change me, if I'm going to die I still want to be me.

Everything is happening too fast for me to process it.

But at this point, with only minor victories for the rebels, a cease-fire could only result in a return to our previous status. Or worse.

My face breaks into a huge smile and i start walking in Peeta's direction. Then, as if i can't stand it another second, I start running.He catches me and spins me around and then he slips-he still isn't entirely in command of his artificial leg-and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that's where we have our first kiss in months.It's full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I'm not alone.As badly as I've hurt him, he won't expose me in front of the cameras. Won't condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He's still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way.

To set a precedent, I guess. So that if in the future she ever fell from grace, it would be understood that presidents - even the most despicable - get special treatment.

On my family: My mother buries her grief in her work. Having no work, grief buries me.

My father was career military. He was a veteran, he was a doctor of political science, he taught at West Point and Air Command Staff and lectured at the War College.

Smiling is mostly about smiling more.

Being older, I began to understand the lyrics. At the beginning, it sounds like a guy is trying to get his girlfriend to secretly meet up with him at midnight. But it's an odd place for a tryst, a hanging tree, where a man was hung for murder. The murderer's lover must have had something to do with the killing, or maybe they were just going to punish her anyway, because his corpse called out for her to flee. That's weird obviously, the talking-corpse bit, but it's not until the third verse that "The Hanging Tree" begins to get unnerving. You realize the singer of the song is the dead murderer. He's still in the hanging tree. And even though he told his lover to flee, he keeps asking if she's coming to meet him. The phrase Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free is the most troubling because at first you think he's talking about when he told her to flee, presumably to safety. But then you wonder if he meant for her to run to him. To death. In the final stanza, it's clear that that's what he was waiting for. His lover, with her rope necklace, hanging dead next to him in the tree.

I used to think the murderer was the creepiest guy imaginable. Now, with a couple of trips to the Hunger Games under my belt, I decide not to judge him without knowing more details. Maybe his lover was already sentenced to death and he was trying to make it easier. To let her know he'd be waiting. Or maybe he thought the place he was leaving her was really worse than death. Didn't I wa

Who says i can't handle it? I can handle it, said Gregor obviously not handling it.

I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle me as he whispers. Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me any time you like it.

Cover yourself!" I lift my gun.

May the odds be ever in your favor ~ Effie Trinket

Remember, girl on fire," he says, "I'm still betting on you.

I know we promised Haymitch, we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle.'
'Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?' says Peeta.
'With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame,' I say.

People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive.

Ugh. Peeta makes comments like this in such an offhand way, and it's like being hit in the gut. He's only answering my question honestly. He's not pressing me to reply in kind, to make any declaration of love. But I still feel awful, as if I've been using him in some terrible way. Have I? I don't know.

Destroying things is much easier than making them.

Just last year i wanted to kill him, but now it is my duty to save him.

Rue, who when you ask her what she loves most in the world, replies, of all things, Music.

Girl talk. That thing I've always been so bad at.

I started as a playwright. Any sort of scriptwriting you do helps you hone your story. You have the same demands of creating a plot, developing relatable characters and keeping your audience invested in your story. My books are basically structured like three-act plays.

it's not a mistake to go on living.

Actually, Katniss isn't complaining because she has no intention of staying with the "Star Squad," but she recognizes the necessity of getting to the Capitol before carrying out any plan.

I'm stopped by the sight of Finnick kissing Peeta.

I haven't figured out a rainbow yet, They come so quickly and leave so soon. I never have enough time to capture them. Just a bit of blue here or purple there. And then they fade away again. Back into the air.

Gale spreads the bread slices with the soft goat cheese, carefully placing a basil leaf on each while I strip the bushes of their berries. We settle back in a nook in the rocks. From this place, we are invisible but have a clear view of the valley, which is teeming with summer life, greens to gather, roots to dig, fish iridescent in the sunlight. The day is glorious, with a blue sky and soft breeze. The food's wonderful, with the cheese seeping into the warm bread and the berries bursting in our mouths.

I think ... you still have no idea. The effect you can have.

Maybe the other tributes are out there beating one another senseless. Which would be fine.
- Katniss -

Then there's Peeta just a few yards away. He looks so clean and healthy and beautiful, I can hardly recognize him. But his smile is the same weather in mud or in the Capital and when I see it, I take about three steps and fling myself into his arms.

You'll never be able to let him go. You'll always feel wrong about being with me.

I cover my face with my arms because this isn't happening. It isn't possible. For someone to make Peeta forget he loves me ... no one can do that.

I have to admit I didn't see it coming. I saw a multitude of other things. Being publicly humiliated, tortured, and executed. Fleeing through the wilderness, pursued by Peacekeepers and hovercraft. Marriage to Peeta with our children forced into the arena. But never that I myself would have to be a player in the Games again.

They are white, four-limbed, about the size of a full-grown human, but that's where the comparisons stop. Naked, with long reptilian tails, arched backs, and heads that jut forward.

Sorry excuses for hunters and friends. Both of us.

You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers.
"Real," I answer. "Because that's what you and I do, protect each other.

I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me in some kind of monster that I'm not.

Kind people have a way of working their way inside me and rooting there.

Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!

Johanna, could you really hear him screaming?" "That was part of it," she says. "Like the jabber jays in the arena. Only it was real. And it didn't stop after an hour. Tick tock.

If we declare our freedom the Capitol collapses.

When I wake, I have a brief, delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with Peeta. Happiness, of course, is a complete absurdity at this point, since at the rate things are going, I'll be dead in a day. And that's the best-case scenario, if I'm able to eliminate the rest of the field, including myself, and get Peeta crowned as the winner of the Quarter Quell. Still, the sensation's so unexpected and sweet I cling to it, if only for a few moments. Before the gritty sand, the hot sun, and my itching skin demand a return to reality.

The audience must be sick to death of the star-crossed lovers from District 12. I know I am.

But there's food if you know how to find it. My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming for him to run.

Panem today Panem tomorrow Panem FOREVER!!!

People are looking at you, Katniss. You've given them an opportunity."
~Gale Hawthorne

it is a perfect weapon

As we curve around into the loop of the City Circle, I can see that a couple of other stylists have tried to steal Cinna and Portia's idea of illuminating their tributes. The electric-light-studded outfits from District 3, where they make electronics, at least make sense. But what are the livestock keepers from Distric 10, who are dressed as cows, doing with flaming belts? Broiling themselves? Pathetic.

Where's Lover Boy? Oh, I see. You were gonna help him, right? Well that's sweet. It's too bad you couldn't help your little ... friend. That little girl? What was her name again? Rue? Well, we killed her. And now ... we're gonna kill you. -Clove, The Hunger Games

Now I smile. "How's everything with you?" I call down cheerfully. This takes them aback, but I know the crowd will love it.

This was the door to both sustenance and sanity. And we were each other's key.

She's not here," I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. "She's not here. You can hiss all you like. You won't find Prim." At her name, he perks up. Raises his flattened ears. Begins to meow hopefully. "Get out!" He dodges the pillow I throw at him. "Go away! There's nothing left for you here!" I start to shake, furious with him. "She's not coming back! She's never ever coming back here again!" I grab another pillow and get to my feet to improve my aim. Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. "She's dead, you stupid cat. She's dead.

You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized she didn't mean me, she meant you!" bursts out Peeta.
"Oh, she meant you," I say with a wave of dismissal.
"She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is," says Peeta.
That pulls me up short. Did his mother really say that about me? Did she rate me over her son? I see the pain in Peeta's eyes and know he isn't lying.
Suddenly I'm behind the bakery and I can feel the chill of the rain running down my back, the hollowness in my belly. I sound eleven years old when I speak. "But only because someone helped me.

Yes, I'm a mouse. Squeak, squeak. Now shoo-shoo back to your little bug friends, said Rirped, picking up a hunk of dried beef. He tore a off a piece with his teeth and noticed Boots hadn't moved. He pulled back his lips to reveal a row of jagged teeth and gave her a sharp hiss.

I'm bad news, all right," said Coriolanus.

You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.

You should wear flames more often. They suit you.

Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," says Petta bitterly, "if it weren't for the baby."
There. He's done it again.

Maybe everyone is just trying to protect me by lying to me. I don't care. I'm sick of people lying to me for my own good.

Lean down a minute first," he says. "Need to tell you something." I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle as he whispers. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it." I jerk my head back but end up laughing. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind.

I also want to tell him how much I already miss him. But that wouldn't be fair on my part.

Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine, but I don't even know what your favorite color is?

patch of dandelions by the track. I only see the image for a moment,

I just needed to hear it." She presses the bundle of pine needles to her nose and closes her eyes. The

A verbal promise behind closed doors, even a statement written on paper-these could easily evaporate ...

Katniss the mockingjay

The real sports of the Hunger Games is watching the tributes kill one another

District 12: Where you can starve to death in safety.

I thought he wanted it, anyway," I say.
"Not like this," Haymitch says. "He wanted it to be real.

Amazingly similar in the execution. A bow pulled, an arrow shot. Entirely different in the aftermath. I killed a boy whose name I don't even know. Somewhere his family is weeping for him. His friends call for my blood. Maybe he had a girlfriend who really believed he would come back ...

Winning the Games will make you famous, losing will mean death.

If I get home, I'll be so stinking rich, I'll be able to pay someone to do my hearing. The woods always look different at night.

She's really gone, then...Time and tragedy have forced her to grow too quickly...

Katniss: I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off.
Peeta: Yes, frosting. The final defence of the dying. (252)

Haymitch shrugs. Peeta has asked to be coached separately.

Suddenly I am furious, that with my life on the line, they don't even have the decency to pay attention to me. That I'm being upstaged by a dead pig.

Let's start with something more basic.
Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk
your life to save mine...but I don't know
what your favorite color is?

To tell or not to tell?

You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know, Haymitch

inside me, the liquor feels like fire and I like it. "Maybe it should be you," I say matter-of-factly as I pull up a chair. "You hate life, anyway." "Very true," says Haymitch. "And since last time I tried to keep you alive . . . seems like I'm obligated to save the boy this time." "That's another good point," I say, wiping my nose and tipping up the bottle again. "Peeta's argument is that since I chose you, I now owe him. Anything he wants. And what he wants is the chance to go in

Not even. Bruised pretty good. The impact ruptured your spleen. They couldn't repair it." She gives a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't worry, you don't need one. And if you did, they'd find you one, wouldn't they? It's everybody's job to keep you alive." "Is that

Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don't want to miss any of them.

Fine, than I will not have to blame you for killing my friends with your stupidity. -Haymitch

No matter what I do, I'm hurting someone. - Katniss Everdeen

Crying is not an option.

I will never give up if you never give in.

The more likable he is, the more deadly he is.

Just remember, stealing's punishable by death

Updates from Coin about the nature of the bombs. Certainly, the war is still being waged, but as to its status, we're in the

I wrote 'The Hunger Games' in a chair, like a La-Z-Boy chair, next to my bed. I had an office, but my kids sort of took it over.

Never having been in love, this is going to be a real trick. I think of my parents. The way my father never failed to bring her gifts from the woods. The way my mother's face would light up at the sound of his boots at the door. The way she almost stopped living when he died.

It's your own fault for being so camera-ready, I tell Gale. If looks could kill.

I take a few breaths to calm myself, step back, and lift Buttercup by the scruff of the neck. "I should've drowned you when I had the chance." His ears flatten and he raises a paw. I hiss before he gets a chance, which seems to annoy him a little, since he considers hissing his own personal sound of contempt.

Katniss....he's still trying to keep you alive.